


The Orphaning Trials

by orphanerprime



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternitave Universe, Homestuck - Freeform, Other, The Orphaning Trials, eridan ampora - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphanerprime/pseuds/orphanerprime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Orphaning Trials are brutal, pitting children against one another. They must fight to the death, determining who will rule by the Heiress' right hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Orphaning Trials

There are only eight of them left. 

They stand at the edge of the cliff, poised and at the ready. Various weapons are clutched at their sides, guns and harpoons and spears. The crosshairs is heavy in his grip, the weight and humming power only hint at the devastating force cultivated inside its hadron battery. Before Vriska had given him the rifle, he had hunted with teeth and claws and ferocity, relying on his skill and dumb luck. 

But the trials call for displays of power. Earlier in the week, it had been hand-to hand combat. To the death. One must cull to survive. Eridan did extremely well. He took no prisoners. The winners feasted and rested for days, socializing and laying about. Eridan and one of the eight left had not fallen into the relaxing ruse. They kept training, keeping to their solitude. 

The waves crash at the edges of the cliffs, the wind howling in his ears. He is ready, poised and on his toes. The boy next to him is shivering, clutching his spear to his chest. A horn is sounded, calling high and loud and he leaps, the first to plunge into the roiling depths. 

He swims ferociously, crosshairs slung over his back, diving deeper and deeper. The water chills even further, and he is past the shallows. All is still. All is silent.

This trial, he has decided to forgo the embellishments. He does not wear his cape, and is not adorned in jewelry. That is for when he wins. There can only be one victor. 

All throughout the week the waters surrounding the cliffs had been chummed, meat and blood of lusii turning the water muddy and calling the predators from the deep. The Orphaning Trials was an expensive ritual, costing life and funds and noble blood. More than half the violetblooded males of his brooding died in this months-long excursion. Each house and sign pitted against each other, determining the fate of who would serve the Empress as her right hand man. 

The wealth and prowess and freedom were not the only perks. Were the Empress to perish without a recognizable heir, G’loybgloyb forbid, the throne would fall to the winner. He would rule in place of the fallen Empress, until another tyrian broodling is hatched and it takes the throne. 

It has been a good hour now, and still Eridan swims out further and further. He is experienced with hunting, unlike his brethren. He has had to fend for himself and Feferi all his life. When one’s lusus is less than ferocious, one has to make ends meet somehow. 

An alcove appears, set deep within stony coral. He swims down to it, perching inside, resting for a moment. He checks and re-checks his gun, keeping a weathered eye out for his prey. And for grudge-bearing brood brothers. 

A small form swims by. It is the shivering boy. He is tense, still clutching his spear. He is hunting unguarded, unprotected from the sea’s wrath. Eridan shakes his head, knowing that the boy will die first. The boy passes by him without sensing his presence. Eridan waits a little longer, making sure the boy or any others have passed. 

He exits the alcove, senses and fins flared. 

An hour passes as he waits. An hour passes and he can feel the shockwaves of something… leviathan moving. It stirs the water, sediment and plankton rushing passed his face swiftly. Whatever this is, it is monstrous.

Eridan can feel his senses bloom with excitement. Trilled at the danger this prey brings, this beast of the deepest legions. He waits, still and silent, letting the creature plot its course. 

Far off in the murky depths, a bright light ripples through the sediment. It is lightning, and through the glow, he can see the outline of the beast. It is impossibly long, finned and tentacled and giant. He breathes deeply, crushing any rising feelings of reluctance.

He speeds forth into the murk, crosshairs at the ready and instincts poised at the ready. The creature is closer now, hiding in the blackness. He can feel it, the danger and malcontent whispering up to him through the water. There are no coral caves to save him now. No other brothers to sacrifice for his own safety. It is him, and the beast.

It watches him, this little hunter, gun as long as he is tall steadied in his arms. It snuffles, blowing warm air out through its monstrous nostrils. It is akin to a giant angler fish, ferocious and forty times as big. The boy hunter does not move, it does not quake with fear, it is as calm and ready as he, this fanged beast of the depths. 

Well. If you are ready, so am I.

Eridan can sense it stir, and like a flash, it bursts up from the depths, jaws wide and gaping. It is determined to swallow him, determined to kill him, make him bow to its majesty.

He braces himself, moving the crosshairs to one arm, ready to ride this thing to its death if need be. 

He sets his sights, aiming. The crosshairs hums, glowing, as if it could sense the oncoming battle with the leviathan. He gulps water in, exhaling slowly. And with a blink, he fires.

A beam of light bright enough to be the sun ripples through the water, hitting its mark spot-on. The thing roars, wriggling, eye a sizzling crater. It thrashes, charging for Eridan. He grasps onto a spine as the thing twists up out of the water, flopping midair. Eridan holds on for dear life, clinging. It roars and above water it sounds even more ferocious. 

It dives back down, trailing blue blood behind it. As it readies to pull back up and shoot out of the water again, he lets go, bobbing to the surface. He can now take the killing shot as he is free of the monsters thrashing. It wails, growling as it turns back to find him. His legs kick furiously to keep him above water, and with a roar torn from his chest, he fires again.

Energy courses through the air, vaporizing water and blood as it strikes the leviathan again. Another eye lost. It screams, knowing it has been bested. It thrashes one last time, blood flying from its mouth. Its enormous head crashes into the edge of the cliff, spattering blue brain across the rock. It squeals, sinking. It is dead. 

Eridan jolts, shoulder burning. Something has pierced him. He whips around to face the serious boy, the one who also refused to feast. The serious boy growls, snarling. His fins are flared wide, shaved head gleaming wetly in the light of the moons. His horns arch above him, curved like scimitars. He is impressive and dangerous and currently holding the harpoon gun. He tugs, and Eridan’s shoulder screams in protest. 

Eridan’s mouth is open wide in threat display, rows and rows of teeth gleaming sharply. He hisses, larger fins flared. He grasps the rope of tied to the harpoon and retaliates, pulling the boy towards him. The serious one is startled by the scrawny boy’s strength, and he is quickly reeled in. 

Eridan tackles him, arm wrapped around his neck, bearing his throat. The boy is wriggling, kicking, punching at him, trying to escape his vise-like grasp. He lands a blow, striking Eridan’s lower opercula. He digs clawed fingers into the delicate gills, puling. Eridan screams, and strikes like a serpent teeth burying deep into the boys meaty neck. 

He pulls, wrenching vein and muscle from the wound. The boy screams and digs his claws deeper. He tries, in vain, to sink his teeth into Eridan’s side, the thick cloth of his shirt preventing him. The boy wriggles, spilling blood like a torrent of royal violet. Eridan strikes again, teeth deep. He wrenches his head around, tearing him as a shark would. The boys grip slips and his claws are free of his gills. Eridan keep going, tearing him apart. 

The boy is finished and Eridan is left panting. He clutches at his torn side, swimming hastily for the stairs. He grasps for the lowest stair, dragging himself up the stairs. He climbs until he is exhausted, pulling himself up onto the grass of the cliffs. 

Hands grasp at him. Voices whisper into his ear.

“Sire! You have won!” 

All the others were dead. All seven of them. He sighs, loosing himself in the slave’s gentle grasp. Unconsciousness blackens his senses and he knows he can rest. 

He is victorious. 

He sleeps. 

The last one standing.


End file.
